There wasn't much left to say. It was a simple dilemma, either Dash pulled through or didn't. Still, it didn't help knowing . She had been right about this taking her mind off it. Rainbows house was an absolute mess. Admittedly, some mess was normal for her but, this. There was a sort of destructive feel about the clutter. Just glancing around the room gave her suspicions. Wind flicked through the room, disturbing a few pages and tissues carefully strewn about the floor. A bathrobe was hung loosely over a chair and, what was that on the table over there, A liquor bottle? It didn't make sense. This is how it had looked after her problem with Tank. That had been horrible for all of them. Even now Pinkie wished he were still here, just so she wouldn't have to do this alone. But Tank was gone and the house was empty. Pinkie pulled the collar of her coat up and shuddered. It was freezing. She trotted across the room and pulled the window shut. The room suddenly got very quiet. All rustling stopped and it seemed as though the room itself, in a way, had died. Pinkie righted one of the chairs and sat, taking it all in. The room was enough to tell her, as if she didn't already know her friend well enough. Something more than an accident had gone on. She glanced to one of the end tables by the overstuffed chair. An ashtray, and she would bet her flank that wasn't a cigaret resting in it. She hadn't seen one of those around Dash for years. Something serious must have changed to get Dash smoking again. There was enough left. Pinkie lifted the blunt and lit it. She and Dash had kicked the habit together, now seemed like an appropriate time for a relapse. She let out a heavy sigh and stood. There wasn't a chance of her finding a thing in this mess. She decided to move to the bedroom and start there. The weight of the room swayed as a particularly strong gust of wind made the house buck. It managed to cause several books to slide off their shelves, and a particularly herbal cigaret to fall straight through the cloud floor. Damn, she thought watching it slip through the mist, they had been so young.
Pinkie pulled herself away from her disappointingly short fix and turned to the door. She almost felt an urge to knock, like some part of her half expected to find her just in the other room. She quietly turned the knob and opened it a crack, slamming it immediately as a blast of cold air threatened to freeze her where she stood. Shuddering, she pulled her scarf up around her face, and turned back to the menacing door. She watched her breath turn to mist in front of her eyes. What the hell Dash? She pushed the door, it stuck. frustration started to brew in her veins. She was getting into that room, whether the house liked it or not. She turned and kicked the wooden frame. The door swung loose and before it had a chance to close again, she threw her weight against it. Pushing against the literal wind, she forced her way into the room.
It was practically a refrigerator in there. January had nested in it, and it was enjoying its stay. Pinkie rushed to the window and slammed it shut. She heard the door behind her close as the last of the wind died away. She growled something to herself and slid to the floor. It was still cold.
Pinkie was surprised how clean it was. The bed was made and the floor was relatively clear. Nothing seemed out of place. She stood and made her way to the center of the room. She was about to start rummaging through seemingly loose papers when she noticed something glint on the nightstand. It was a letter. Light from the window bounced off the shiny wax seal casting flecks on the walls and ceiling. Something about it drew her to it. Slowly she walked around the bed and picked up the envelope. The loosely legible hoof writing was definitely hers but she stopped short after reading the back. There was no address, no return address, not even a stamp. There was just one word written across the starchy blank paper. And the word was Pinkie.